


In His Eyes

by Glare



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, I don't know what I'm doing, Identity Issues, M/M, Tag As I Go, Thea knows what's up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-29
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-03-26 09:13:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3845383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glare/pseuds/Glare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slade doesn’t bother to acknowledge the opening of the door that leads to his cell. He’s lying on the lumpy cot ARGUS was kind enough to provide, facing the cold, stone wall. The only visitors he’s gotten in recent weeks are the agents that deliver his meals and walk him to the showers, and he’d learned a long time ago that they wouldn’t rise to the bait he of mockery or bribes. So he’s surprised when the footsteps that draw nearer are light- too light to be the standard issue combat boots that his usual caretakers wear. He roll over on the cot, and he sees her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Freedom

**Author's Note:**

> You know the drill. Unbeta'd. Comments and Kudos are appreciated.  
> 

Slade doesn’t bother to acknowledge the opening of the door that leads to his cell. He’s lying on the lumpy cot ARGUS was kind enough to provide, facing the cold, stone wall. The only visitors he’s gotten in recent weeks are the agents that deliver his meals and walk him to the showers, and he’d learned a long time ago that they wouldn’t rise to the bait he of mockery or bribes. So he’s surprised when the footsteps that draw nearer are light- too light to be the standard issue combat boots that his usual caretakers wear. He roll over on the cot, and he sees _her_.

  
She’s changed since their last confrontation. The previously short, dark hair now brushes against her shoulders; her face bears the worry lines of someone well beyond her years. But it’s her eyes that have changed the most. Slade had seen the darkness in them when they’d fought- when she’d held a gun to his head and Oliver had talked her down from taking his life- but the blackness that had once only flickered behind her eyes is now an all-encompassing darkness. If he were a lesser man, it might have scared him. Then there’s her clothes. She’s wearing the jacket of Oliver’s uniform, Shado’s hood resting neatly around her neck. He can’t decide, in that moment, whether she looks more like a Merlyn or a Queen.

  
“Thea,” Slade says with his best attempt at dispassion, but he knows he hasn’t been able to keep some of the surprise out of his voice. “Does your brother know you’re here?”

She fixes him with a sharp glare, but he still catches the way she flinches at the mention of Oliver. Interesting.

  
“What brings you to the island this time?”

She once again fails to answer, but the expression that falls over her face is one he’s seen a dozen times before on her brother. It’s calculating, yet hesitant- worn when Oliver had something to add to whatever plan of attack they’d been discussing, but wasn’t sure whether his input would be appreciated. His insights usually were- and that was worrying. If Thea was anything like the tactician her brother was, that look meant trouble.

“Do you still love him?” She finally asks, voice surprisingly level. Especially since he can see her fingering at the hem of the jacket like her mother had done when she was uncomfortable.

Neither move to clarify who she’d been speaking of. Slade doesn’t bother to ask how she’d known—their actions the last time he and Oliver had faced each other had made it abundantly clear. Despite how much he wants to deny it, wants to snap and send her fleeing from his presence for digging up emotions he’s long since tucked away, the word slips past his lips unbidden.

  
“Yes.”

Thea is silent for just another moment, green eyes searching over his face. Whatever she finds must be satisfactory, because she hits the bright red release button and the cell door swings open. “Let’s go, then.”


	2. Arguements

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was blown away by the reception the first chapter got. Thank you so much for the support!  
> This takes place in 2x21, going AU after Oliver is forced to retreat from his first attempt at capturing Nyssa.  
> Unbeta'd.

“You’re insane!” Echoes through the ruined foundry, the petite blond that uttered the words standing on one side as she stares down the brunette on the other. Diggle, Laurel, and Nyssa stand around Felicity while Slade remains just behind Thea, the space between a no man’s land of rubble and broken glass. “I know coming back from the dead messed you up a little bit,” Felicity continues, “but even you can’t have forgotten than this Is the man that murdered your mother!”

“I haven’t,” the young Queen snarls, “but Malcolm and I both agree that this could be the best way to snap Ollie out of whatever mind voodoo Ra’s put him under.”

“Like Malcolm is such a trustworthy individual,” Felicity mutters under her breath.

Slade had seen this confrontation coming from the moment Thea began to explain her plan on the flight back to Starling. There was no way that Oliver’s team would willingly work with him after what he’d done the year before, and he’d  
tried to warn her of this fact. Thea, however, was adamant that they could be made to see reason.

“Thea, Oliver is gone. You need to accept that. The only thing this is going to do is make him angry.” Laurel interjects.

He had to admit, he’d been surprised to see the woman here. When he’d shared the Arrow’s identity with her, he had intended for it to tear the two apart. It seemed that coupled with the death of her sister, his plan had done the opposite. She stands before him in a parody of Sara’s League uniform, holding herself with the confidence of a fighter. Roy Harper is missing, but John Diggle is staring him down from his place behind Felicity’s right shoulder, hand resting meaningfully against the holster of his sidearm. Slade supposes that the only reason he hadn’t been taken down on sight is that Thea had placed herself between him and Team Arrow. He might even thank her for it later.

“Listen, if there is anybody who’s been as influential on my brother as Ra’s, it’s Slade. Everything Ra’s sees in Oliver is only there because Slade put it there. He taught Ollie how to fight, how to kill,” Thea pauses before continuing in harder tone, “and he’s the only other person with the audacity to mark Oliver with his brand. He can snap Ollie out of this.”

The rest of the team looks momentarily thrown. Knowing what he does about the kid’s propensity for keeping secrets, Slade isn’t surprised. It would be unlikely that anyone beyond Sara would know the true nature of the dragon tattoo on Oliver’s shoulder.

“Even if he could somehow get through to Oliver,” Felicity starts up again, “why would he? The reason he was in his little island prison is because he was hell-bent on ruining Oliver’s life. How do you know that this isn’t just one of his elaborate schemes to escape and get back at Oliver?”

Thea opens her mouth to retort, but snaps it closed again and screws her face up into a frustrated expression when she realizes that she doesn’t have an answer. Not without spilling secrets she’d sworn to keep. Slade guesses that this is his cue to step in.

“I’ve given you no reason to trust me,” he says softly, voice purposefully even in attempt to settle the group’s tempers, “my actions in the past can’t be blamed entirely on the effects of the Mirikuru, but you saw with Mr. Harper that it did play its role. I don’t have it in me anymore, and I’ve had plenty of time to work through the emotions that motivated me last year. I have no ill intentions towards Oliver.”

“Right,” Felicity scoffs, “even if he isn’t lying through his teeth—which I’m still not convinced that he isn’t—what are we going to do if Ray finds out that he’s in town? As good a guy as Ray is, I don’t think good is going to stop him from jumping into his super suit made of military grade weaponry and attacking the man he blames for Anna’s death.”

Nyssa, who had been silent during the entirety of the exchange, finally speaks up.  
“We will deal with that situation if we have to, but right now we need to focus on the problem at hand. I fought against this man’s army alongside all of you, but I am not prepared to turn away a valuable asset. Especially one that could potentially hold his own against Oliver, should it come to violence.”

Nobody can find it in them to argue with that. Laurel still struggled against muggers on the streets, Diggle’s experience in unarmed combat had proven no match to Oliver’s in years of sparring, and Thea had barely escaped the Arrow the last time he’d confronted her—when he’d been thrown by her skills and trying not to hurt her. The silence that stretches between them is broken by Diggle, who scrubs his face with his hands, resting the behind his head, before asking, “Alright, what’s the plan?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 1: I had them meet in the Foundry, even though it's in shambles, because marching the guy who essentially murdered Ray's fiancé into the new HQ at Palmer Tech just seemed like a bad idea. Plus the club is probably closed, seeing as Thea's "dead" and all. No Malcolm yet. I tried to write him into this chapter, but he just hung around silently in the background and that's not His Deal so I took him back out. He'll get here eventually.


	3. How It Began

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter fought me tooth and nail. Not really happy with it, but it's not getting any better so I'm throwing it up and moving on.

It starts with a kiss, as these things are wont to do. 

Slade is shaken awake from the troubled sleep he’d managed to fall into after his infection-born fever had broken. Oliver hovers over him worriedly, the hand he’d used to wake him still resting on Slade’s shoulder. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a rational part of him notes that it’s a small miracle that he hadn’t hurt Oliver when the kid approached and laid hands on him. That small voice is all but drowned out by the terror that courses through his veins; that claws at something in his chest Slade had long thought forgotten.

“Slade? You alright?” Oliver asks, but it sounds distant and muffled to his ears. “You were having a nightmare.”

And quite the nightmare it had been. He’d dreamt back to the day he’d killed Billy. Dreamt of arriving too late and being forced to watch as the kid he’d grown surprisingly fond of was cut down before him by a man he once called brother. The phantom stench of blood lingered in his nose, and the deep breaths he pulled weren’t helping to calm his racing heart. Oliver kneels down beside the small bed on the floor he’d been residing in since the infection began, his concerned look intensifying.  
Slade brings a hand up, resting it against Oliver’s chest, above his heart, in attempt to reassure himself that it’s still there—still beating. Oliver doesn’t react, not even when the hand makes its way from his chest to his jaw, trailing over the still thin stubble there before tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. Slade tugs Oliver down, the kid’s eyes widening in surprise when he presses their lips together in a chaste kiss. 

It doesn’t last long, Oliver fleeing to the other side of the fuselage the instant Slade’s grip slackens enough for him to pull away, but it does the job. The kid is alive, they’re safe, everything is fine. He slumps back down and allows himself to drift off. 

Neither mention ‘The Incident’, as Slade will later discover Oliver to have dubbed it, in the days that follow. The kid seems content to pretend it never happened, so Slade will give him that. He keeps his distance, stays professional. Doesn’t acknowledge the looks Oliver fixes him with whenever he crosses the boundaries of personal space Oliver had erected since the kiss. There are no more casual brushes during their free time or spontaneous wrestling matches during training. Slade would never say it aloud, but he began to miss them.

He lasts until the kid fixes the radio. It crackles to life beneath Oliver’s hands as he returns from hunting, the large boar he’d caught all but forgotten in favor of cupping the kid’s face in his hands and kissing him. To his surprise, Oliver doesn’t pull away this time. The blond’s fingers are hesitant as they move from his side to grasp at the fabric of Slade’s shirt, gently pulling the older man closer. 

“Wasn’t sure if you actually knew what you were doing that night, or if it was some weird side effect of your fever,” Oliver murmurs against his lips when they break apart.

In the end it doesn’t matter that the radio can’t call out, because Oliver doesn’t complain when he’s tugged down onto Slade’s sleeping mat that night. Slade falls asleep listening to transmissions on the radio that night with full stomach and a warm body at his side. For the first time since the kid had wandered into his plane, he lets himself think that they might have a chance at surviving the island after all.


	4. Confrontation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *runs in 15 minutes late with a starbucks and this chapter*  
> Sorry dudes, life got hectic there for a bit. Should be back on a semi-regular update schedule.

Nothing could have prepared him from seeing Al Sah-Him for the first time. He slips from the shadows in that black uniform, a small group of League lackeys at his side, and Slade’s mind all but shorts out at the wrongness of it all. Fortunately his look of shock is mirrored on the other man, a sign to the others that this plan might not be so ludicrous after all. 

Once upon a time, when Fyers was gone and everything was good, Slade had allowed himself to fantasize about a life beyond the island. He’d come to terms long ago with the fact that they’d probably be stuck on Lian Yu for the remainder for their years, but it was still a pleasant thought. He and Oliver and Shado together, with a roof over their heads and a real bed to curl up in at night. They could go anywhere, do anything, be anyone they wanted to be.  
The irony is not lost on him that just a year ago, their positions had been reversed. A year ago he had been out of his mind, trying to burn Oliver’s world to the ground. Now Oliver was the lost, and it was up to Slade to keep that world safe.

Life after the island wasn’t supposed to be like this. They weren’t supposed to become this.

They’ve both regained their composure by the time their respective companions take up positions around them. They’d come to an arrangement. Nyssa for the safe return of Diggle’s wife, Lyla. The woman is brought forward, hands bound behind her, and Diggle plays the role of furious ex-best friend to perfection. Slade suspects that it has less to do with his acting skills and more with the emotions undoubtedly boiling under the man’s skin. Al Sah-Him doesn’t take his eyes off Slade, even as he commands his men to bind Nyssa and release Lyla. The woman hugs John, who murmurs instructions in her ear, and then she moves to embrace Felicity.

“Kneel before the Heir to the Demon,” Slade hears the one named Sarab say to Nyssa.

“I kneel before no man,” the woman snarls.

Two gunshots ring out, the assassins at the outside of the group falling dead, and the room erupts into a fight. Slade lunges for one of the fallen assassin’s blade, grabbing it just in time to deflect Al Sah-Him’s downward stroke. He’s aware of the fight raging around them, but his focus remains upon his opponent. His swordsmanship has improved drastically since their ill-fated afternoons on the island, the soldier trying to teach his charge anything that could help him survive the harsh conditions they resided it. In the end, he’d written it up as a lost cause. It seemed now that he may have quit too early.

Months locked in cell were taking their toll. His footwork is sloppy, his reaction times aren’t at their best. Slade still manages to hold his own for an impressive amount of time, more than he can say for the rest of the team, but Al Sah-Him finally manages to knock him to the ground. Slade watches as the man hovers over him, staring dispassionately, blade poised to strike him down at any second. 

Suddenly, as soon as Al Sah-Him moves, an arrow whistles through the air and imbeds itself in the man’s arm. He hisses in pain, dropping the sword, and spins to face the new opponent. Thea is perched far above them, dressed in that green hood, bow drawn taught with another arrow.

“Get away from him,” she snarls. “Get away from him, or the next one goes in your eye.”

Al Sah-Him moves, barely more than a twitch, but suddenly the lights in the building flicker off. When they return, Team Arrow is startled to discover Nyssa still on the floor at Laurel’s side, but the League and Slade are gone.


	5. Prisoner

For one terrifying moment, when he finally wakes, Slade thinks that they’ve dragged him all the way to Nanda Parbat to face whatever punishment A Sah-Him intends to dish out for his trespasses. But once his mind becomes clearer, over the roar of blood in his ears, he can make out the sounds of Starling. Of traffic and pedestrians and life. There was a chance the others could find him before anything happened if they looked. The panic ebbs marginally, quickly replaced by anxiety over his current position.

He’s chained to the floor in another abandoned warehouse, the room around him lit with the glow of fire. The cool of the manacles bites against his wrists, just this side of snug. There would be no wiggling his way out of them. A few tugs on the chains reveal them to be sturdily attached to the floor. Another escape plan foiled. He is well and truly stuck, waiting. For death or rescue, he is uncertain.

The idea of dying had long ago ceased to scare Slade Wilson. It’s not nearly as terrifying as one might think. Calm and peaceful and easy, once you get past the pain that landed you there. He wasn’t afraid to die here. What scared him was the possibility of living. He’d heard the rumors, the hushed whispers of intelligence officers in the night, of the horrible things the League was capable of doing. He’d been trained to handle torture, but that didn’t make it any less painful. Didn’t make him any less afraid of the thought of a blade sinking into his flesh. The idea of something with Oliver’s face wielding the sword only serves to make him ill.

Footsteps on the concrete draw his attention. Al Sah-Him prowls closer, his face a mask Slade can no longer read. Silence reins as the man circles him with slow steps, eyes never leaving his prisoner. Slade does his best to follow the man with his gaze as far as he can, but a prickle of discomfort still goes up his spine when Al Sah-Him disappears behind him momentarily.

“What are you doing here?” the man finally asks, stopping in front of him.

“Your sister got me off the island. Thought I could help you, or at least help keep them safe from you.”  
Al Sah-Him considers those words for a moment before speaking. “You can not be allowed to interrupt my mission again. You will remain here until I have successfully retrieved Nyssa, then you will be returned to Lian Yu.”

“Oliver,” Slade starts when the man moves to step away.

“Oliver Queen is dead. I am Al Sah-Him.”

“Oliver. This isn’t you.” Slade continues as though he hadn’t been interrupted. “This is the League. They brainwashed you!”

“I don’t care,” Al Sah-Him growls.

“What you are doing is wrong. I know that you know that. Ra’s did this to you. You don’t have to follow his orders. We can get out of here. Disappear. Together. You know we can.”

“I don’t care.” It’s more hesitant than the first, but it feels like a knife in Slade’s gut when he realizes that he’s not getting out of this one. That the Oliver he knew was well and truly gone. It was going to take a hell of a lot more than what he could do chained to the floor to bring him back. That there’s actually a chance of not being able to. Al Sah-Him casts him one last glance before striding away, ignoring the calls of his prisoner that echo behind him as he goes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How about that finale?  
> I hated the ending :)
> 
> But have ya'll seen the Supergirl first look? Gimme that. Gimme that right now.


	6. Guests

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a shameless excuse to write this scene. I've been wanting to write a scene like this since Al Sah-Him aired, and when I realized I could work it in here I had to. Fight me.

This late at night—or early in the morning, If you were that kind of person—there was only one person that could be ringing Quinten Lance’s doorbell. That didn’t make it any easier to push himself off the couch, he hadn’t slept much since finding out about Sara, and away from the late-night reruns on the television to answer the door. Finding Laurel there is not a surprise. Nyssa he could have expected, had he taken the time to think about it. He is, however, completely thrown by the remnants of _Team Arrow_ and Thea Queen. Thea Queen, who’d been attacked and fallen into a coma only to be declared missing days later when her supposed hospital transport to Central City never arrived.

He wants to turn them away on instinct. Wants to refuse any help to the people who’d hidden his daughter’s death from him. But Laurel fixes hits with that begging expression she’d mastered in her youth and he can already feel his will crumbling.

“What do you want?” Quinten manages to huff out, doing what he assumes is a pretty decent impression of an angry parent.

“We had a really bad night.” Laurel says, and judging by the mottling of cuts and bruises on all of them, it was the truth. “We just need somewhere to lay low for the night. Somewhere Al-…. Somewhere the League won’t think to look for us. Since our falling out, and all.”

Lance doesn’t move.

“We’ll be out of your hair by morning.” She hastily adds. He quirks a skeptical eyebrow because when it came to vigilante business, once you got involved you would stay involved, but he steps back and holds the door open nonetheless.

Lance’s home wasn’t made for this many guests, but they all still manage to find perches in the small living room. Chipped mugs, stained with age and use, are pulled from the back of the cabinets and filled with strong, murky coffee. Lance drags a chair from the kitchen and settles in the doorway, nursing his own mug while he watches them work. At least his first aid kit as finally getting some use. It had been gathering dust under the sink since his promotion to Head Desk Jockey last year.

“So who has it out for you guys now?” Lance scoffs, watching Laurel tend to an oozing wound on Nyssa’s neck where she’s perched on the coffee table.

“My father believes to have found his prophesied heir and has given away my title. Al Sah-Him has been sent to remove me as a threat to his reign.” Nyssa says.

“We had a plan to deal with him, but it… fell through.” Laurel mumbles.

“Do you think they’ll kill him?” Felicity asks softly. She and Thea are curled up together on the couch. “I mean, I know I shouldn’t really care after the horrible things he did, but we put him up to this. I don’t want him dead.”

“Him?” Lance asks.

“You didn’t put him up to anything. Even if you’d told us no, he would have gone after him anyways.” Thea sounds like she’s about to drop off, the coffee apparently helping little after the stress compiled with their late night.

“Who are we talking about?” Lance asks again, disliking being out of the loop in his own home.

“Thea tracked down an old friend of Oliver’s. Hoped he might be able to snap the guy out of whatever mind control the League has him under. Got captured when the plan went south.” Diggle, who had been silent since their arrival finally said.

Oliver. Of course this was about Oliver. When wasn’t it, really? He should have found it more suspicious that the group was here without him. Quinten wants to groan, wants to rescind his invitation, but judging by the state they were all in, they really did need somewhere safe to lay low for the night.

“God, why did he even _come_?” Felicity asks no one in particular. “He had to know Oliver would try to kill him.”

“Slade’s in love with Oliver,” Thea blurts out, because there isn’t a reason to keep it a secret anymore. “When Ollie took me to Lian Yu, Slade got out and attacked us and he said some things that just… Yea. He’s been in love with him for years.”

Silence reigns. Thankfully bandaging had been for the most part finished before the unexpected turn in the conversation, because it appeared it was taking most of the team’s brainpower to process the new information. Lance takes it as his cue to turn in, muttering something about expecting them to be gone by the time he leaves for work. He barely catches, as he’s shutting the bedroom door behind him, Felicity’s squeak.

“ _Oh_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because honestly if you're going to hide from Oliver, why would you NOT go chill in the one place he probably wouldn't look?


	7. Bullies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thea ponders that first trip to the island.

Thea stays awake long after most of the others have settled down for the night. Nyssa is still awake, on watch, but pays her no mind. Exhaustion has settled bone-deep, but no matter how hard she tries, she can’t find sleep. Instead, she finds her mind wandering to that first trip to the island. It had changed everything between them.

Everything calms after the gunshot wound. Thea could say she expected it, after all, Wilson would have to know he was at the disadvantage with a bullet in his arm and a near-homicidal teen still brandishing the weapon. Still, she’s thrown by just _how_ _fast_ the fight dissipates. One moment he and Oliver were at each other’s throats, and the next her brother is taking Slade’s free hand and helping to haul him to his feet, the other man muttering a soft thanks for the assistance.

Slade doesn’t even put up a token of a fight on the way back to the cell. He’s quiet, minus the soft grunts of pain that slip out when his arm is jostled the wrong way. It’s usually echoed by Oliver’s own whines, the laceration to his shoulder finally making its severity known now that the adrenaline is draining from his system. Being relatively uninjured, Slade’s focus had been on Oliver most of the fight, Thea is instructed to go and fetch the supplies from their camp and meet the duo at the prison. She’s hesitant to leave Oliver alone in the shape he’s in, but her brother insists that he’ll be fine. If she runs a little faster than is perhaps safe on a hostile, booby-trapped island, well, she’s just worried for the state of their wounds. The sooner the men get patched up, the less likely it becomes that infection will set in.

Thea returns to find the both in the cell, Slade seated on the small cot and Oliver gingerly helping him out of the heavy ARGUS coat and the shirt beneath. Oliver’s hands are steady despite his own wound and pained growls Slade makes as he works. Thea can only imagine how sorry the two of them must have looked trying to get down the ladder.

“Got our stuff,” she announces, drawing their attention while rooting around for the first aid kit.

Oliver takes a knife to his tattered coat when they find that Thea has left the length of rope they’d packed back at the campsite. Slade doesn’t fidget or complain when one of the strips of fabric is used to bind his arms behind his back. In fact, the whole affair carries an ease that only comes with familiarity. Thea almost wants to ask how many times they’d done this in their time together, if not for the fear of one of them actually answering. Slade curses and snarls through ground teeth while Oliver digs the bullet from his arm, but seems to deflate the moment it’s out, head drooping forward against Oliver’s chest while he catches his breath. Her brother pays it no mind, working around him to bandage the hole. Afterwards, when the wound is covered in clean white linen and Slade has drawn away with a slightly confused expression on his face, like he’s not quite sure why he’d done that, Oliver helps him into a clean, grey uniform.

“Your shoulder-” Slade starts when Oliver tries to move away, uninjured arm quickly jerking to catch Oliver’s wrist. Thea tenses, prepared to interfere, but Oliver remains lax.

“It’s not bad. I can talk Thea through patching it up.”

“Let me help,” Slade presses, and after a moment’s hesitation, Oliver relents.

By the time they’ve managed to pull Oliver’s shirts off, Thea’s made her way to the cell, leaning against the bars of the doorway to better observe. She’s not sure how Oliver can do it—let Slade touch him so freely. Not when those hands are the same ones that killed their mother, had tried to kill Ollie on a number of occasions. But Oliver still holds perfectly still while Slade cleans the wound, muttering things about _Oliver and his booby traps_ and how _that ever ends well_ under his breath while he works. It’s basically the same process, but with less bullets and more sewing, so they’re done quite quickly and Oliver steps away. Slade lets him go, lets him close the cell door, and stands.

And everything goes back to normal. Slade threatens and snarls searing jabs their way, prodding at their metaphorical wounds. Oliver hisses things in return. They’re Slade Wilson and Oliver Queen again, at each other’s throats, like only a moment ago Slade hadn’t been standing between her brother’s legs sewing up the gaping hole in his shoulder. It confuses her enough that when Slade baits her, she reacts, fleeing the room. She can hear the two talking as she ascends the ladder, but can’t make out the words.

In hindsight, Thea thinks she should have figured it out sooner. She’d been a teenager once. She knows drama. Should have seen the meaning behind Slade’s behavior the same way she had seen others’ in the crowded school halls. He’d been playing the role of the schoolyard bully, the one that picked on a victim to hide their true feelings. Maybe if she had seen it, she could have gotten him earlier. Maybe Slade could have stopped Oliver before this ever began. But it’s wishful thinking. For now, all she can do is curl closer to Felicity’s side and hope that he’s alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had originally intended this story to be like 5 chapters max, but it's just gotten away from me. Can't say i'm complaining. I like writing it.
> 
> Once again, I can't thank you enough for all of the kind words and support you've given me! It means the world.


	8. Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is no excuse for how late this chapter is other than that I'm a horrible, lazy person. A bad, bad bird.

Slade’s been tugging at the chains holding him for god knows how long. They still haven’t budged, as he predicted, but it made him feel a little better to be actively resisting. He had never been comfortable surrendering, and if he was going to be stuck back on that island when Oliver finished his task, he was going to resist with everything he had.

Of course the others hadn’t come looking for him. What was he expecting? Even if they managed to make it out of that fight in one piece, why on earth would they come searching for _him_? The man who murdered Oliver and Thea’s mother, who abducted Laurel and Thea, who left their precious city in ruins. It was pathetic of him to think, even just for a moment, that they might actually care whether he lived or died. Everybody is in this life for themselves. He was just another pawn that’d run out of use.

Footsteps again. Slade’s head snaps around, searching for their source. It’s not Oliver’s tread, he’s know that anywhere, knows it like his own, but he hadn’t expected to receive another visitor. A small figure slips into his field of vision, hands raised in an appeasing gesture.

“I am unarmed,” Sarab says, drawing slowly closer.

“What do you want?” Slade growls, baring teeth.

The open hostility is quickly replaced by confusion and wariness when Sarab pulls a key from the ring at his hip. There is no doubt that it would be to the manacles on Slade’s wrist, but why had he brought it? Just to rub it in that freedom was so close, and yet so far? It appears not, as Sarab tosses the key, not moving when Slade snatches it from the air.

This has to be a trick. There’s nothing else it could be. Some elaborate game Oliver was playing. But Sarab takes a step back when Slade slowly unlocks the manacles, doesn’t make to attack while he rubs at the raw skin of his wrists. The man just observes from what he’s deemed is a safe distance when Slade stands, unsure of what to do next.

“Why are you doing this?” He asks. Determining whether this was a trap was as good a place to start as any.

“I was once a friend to Oliver Queen. What Ra’s has done to him… I can not stand by it.”

Continuing to watch for any sudden movements, Slade hauls himself to his feet. Hours on his knees had left him a bit unsteady at first, but Sarab once again fails to attack. Slade takes that as proof enough that the assassin has no secondary agenda, and approaches.

“They’re going to kill you for this.” He says meaningfully. Slade knew enough about the workings of any organization, let alone the League, to know that betrayal would not be tolerated. “Is Oliver really worth that?”

“I owe Oliver everything,” Sarab says determinedly, “I will happily give my life for this.”

Slade doesn’t have anything to say to that, so he simply nods in acknowledgement. Oliver’s ability to inspire such loyalty had always astonished him. Even now, when Oliver wasn’t _Oliver_ at all, those closest to him were prepared to lay down their lives in his name.

“You should go, before Al Sah-him returns.” Sarab urges. “There is an exit down the hall. The rest of the men have gone out searching for Nyssa. You should be unopposed.”

“Thank you.” He’s just begun to jog away when Sarab’s voice calls after him.

“Mr. Wilson?” Slade turns to face him once again. The man’s eyes are a torrent of emotions that Slade can’t entirely decipher, but he thinks one of them might be hope. “Bring him home.”

Slade nods, voice caught in his throat. He doesn’t look back again as he goes, making for the exit, a new plan already beginning to form in his head. He would bring Oliver back—for all of them.


	9. The Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Adele voice) Hello, it's me.

Slade only manages to catch a glimpse of surprised faces when he enters the remains of the foundry before he’s hit by what feels like a small freight train. Regaining his balance, he looks down to discover Thea, her arms like a vice around him and her face pressed into his chest.

“Oh my god,” she groans out, “it’s so good to see you.”

It’s not a sentiment shared by everyone judging by the look in Diggle and Lance’s eyes, but at the same time, they’re not as openly hostile either. No one tries to kill him, at least, when he gives Thea a gentle squeeze in return. “Nice to see you too, Kid.”

“How did you get free?” Diggle asks once Thea’s pulled away.

“One of Oliver’s men, Sarab, cut me loose. He knew Oliver once upon a time. Doesn’t like what Ra’s has done to him.”

The foundry is slightly nicer than it was the last time they met—most of the broken glass swept off to one side and a few of the chairs righted. Slade walks further into the room, following Thea as she makes her way to a table set up under the single functional light.

“Wat’s this?” He asks, looking down at the map of Starling spread out over the table’s surface.

“Laurel and I did some reconnaissance while you were MIA. Tried to find their hideout.” Diggle points to one of locations they’ve marked on the map. “Oliver’s set up a couple different posts. He’s probably hoping that by dividing the city up, they’ll be able find Nyssa faster.”

“It also means they’ll have less men at every camp,” Nyssa interjects. “If we can take them out fast enough, before the other camps have a chance to respond-”

“No,” Slade says, cutting through their conversation like a knife. “We don’t need to worry about the other camps. We just need to know which one Oliver is at.”

“Slade,” Laurel says gently, “we all get that you’re fond of Oliver, but he had you captive and you couldn’t snap him out of it. We have to accept that he’s gone.”

“That’s just it. Oliver held me captive. That’s how we know he’s still in there!” At the others’ confused looks, Slade elaborates. “Al Sah-Him should have just killed me. Not only am I a threat to his mission, but I’ve also hurt him. More than any of you could understand. I should be dead, but I’m not. He hesitated. Oliver is still in there somewhere. I just need another crack at him.”

Diggle, Nyssa, and Laurel still didn’t look convinced, but there was a blinding hope in Felicity and Thea’s eyes now. Because Slade was right: he should be dead. Al Sah-Him’s hesitation had given them the advantage they so desperately needed. Diggle sighed, rubbing his face with his hands before leaning over the map once again.

“Alright, then. Let’s get to work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is short because the next one is going to be long.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
